


For the First Time

by elliex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Human Castiel, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:44:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Prompt "Try Something New"</p><p>A hunter who's not always in touch with his feelings figures out how to persuade his fallen angel to come home. Sam's advice? "Try something different than your usual, guns-blazing, Imma-kick-your-ass approach, okay?"</p><p>Set in S09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the First Time

\+ + + +

Dean pulls into the convenience store’s parking lot and slowly drives past the glass storefront. A glimpse of dark hair, of a head tilting slightly drops his heart into his stomach.

He deftly navigates the Impala into a parking space towards the back of the building, out of sight from the counter and the floor to ceiling windows. Dean puts the car into park, but he doesn’t get out – not yet. 

Instead, he watches the steady stream of customers entering and leaving the building. It’s a busy evening. The gas pumps are full, and the tail-end of the line snakes down the aisle closest to the window. 

He waits, thrumming his fingers against the steering wheel, jaw clenched, eyes glinting. 

Charlie had called him six hours ago with the coordinates, told him that Cas was working - _working_ \- at this shitty little store in this shitty little town. Before the call had even ended, Dean's duffel was packed, and he was walking out the door, blatantly ignoring Sam’s queries. Now, he tried not to think of how bewildered and exasperated Sam had looked standing there in the doorway. 

Dean couldn’t explain his behavior, or rather, he didn't want to. He knew Sam was worried about Cas too, that he would have happily come along on this retrieval mission. But Dean had wanted, _had needed_ , to do this alone. Why that was…

Well, whatever. He’s here now, and he knows what he wants to do: He wants to stalk in there and grab the sorry son-of-a-bitch by the scruff of the neck, drag him out in the parking lot, and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. 

But that isn’t really true, and Dean knows it.

He scrubs an unsteady hand across his face. _Shit. What is wrong with me?_

He’s been plagued with nightmares for the better part of his adult life, but the ones he’s had the past few weeks, ever since Cas fell off the radar – they’re in a class all their own. He’s lost count of how many times he’s woken up drenched in a cold sweat, his heart racing, his soul hurting, despite his surety that his brother is alive and well. More than once, Sam has shaken him back to consciousness, silencing screams that Dean didn’t realize were his.

Dean knots his hands together in his lap, but he can't stop fidgeting. A wave – of anticipation? worry? insecurity? – of _something_ washes over him. 

Cas is in _there_ , and he is out _here_. 

_What if this is the way it’s supposed to be?,_ a voice asks. _What if he doesn’t need you after all? If he’s safer without you? Happier without you?_

Dean tells the voice to shut up, but it listens about as well as the other voices in his head usually do.

Sam’s ringtone startles him. Dean takes a breath and answers.

“Yeah?,” he asks, 

“So you found him?” Sam’s voice is calm and even, which is exactly what Dean needs to hear. He lets the timbre of his brother’s voice soothe his frayed nerves – not that he’ll ever admit that, of course.

“How’d you know?”

Sam doesn’t answer for a moment. Then, “GPS. You left it on.”

“Oh, right,” Dean answers, realizing only then that he’s been so rattled that he hadn’t even thought of turning it off.

“So how is he?,” Sam asks.

“I don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I – uh – I haven’t gone in yet,” Dean says, leaning his head against the cool glass of the driver’s window and shutting his eyes. 

Sam doesn’t answer for a minute, and Dean cringes inwardly, wondering what his brother is thinking.

“That’s good,” Sam said. There's no mockery or condemnation in Sam’s voice, and Dean relaxes. “Give yourself a minute to think about what you want to say to him,” his brother says.

Dean doesn’t say anything; neither does Sam.

“Um… what do you want to say to him?,” Sam finally asks, his voice filling the silence in the car.

“Hell if I know,” Dean mutters, knowing that the comment reveals more than he is entirely comfortable with.

“Dean – ” Sam breaks off. 

“Yeah?,” Dean asks, rolling his eyes, even though Sam isn’t there to see. 

Sam takes an audible breath. “Look, you can kick my ass for this later if you’ve gotta, but listen to me: You only get one shot at this, brother, so don’t fuck it up. You and I both know that you _do_ know what you want to say to him –“

“I don’t know wha—” Dean starts to protest, but Sam interrupts.

“Shut up, Dean. Listen to me for once.”

Sam's vehemence surprises Dean, and for once, he does what his brother says.

“You know. I know. Charlie knows. Dammit, Dean. Heaven, Hell _and_ Purgatory knows. So suck it up and deal with it. And try something different than your usual, guns-blazing, Imma-kick-your-ass approach, okay?”

Dean nods thoughtfully, though his brother can’t see.

“Dean? You with me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m with you, Sam,” Dean answers, and even he can hear the emotion in his voice. “And – uh – thanks.”

“Anytime,” Sam says. “Now, get Cas and bring him home.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Dean says, ending the call. 

Dean sits upright and watches the store. Traffic is lessening, and Dean finally tells himself to nut up and get the job done. He gets out of the car and takes the long walk across a short expanse of stained pavement. 

+

Dean slips into the store along with a small flood of customers. He works his way around the back and kills some time pretending to peruse t-shirts and homemade candles and postcards and other kitschy shit, all while he watches Cas. 

The former Angel of the Lord appears at ease, joking with some of the regulars, getting their cigarettes and lottery tickets, operating the computers…

Dean feels a moment of wonder. This is Cas; he knows it is, but what if this Cas isn’t _his_ Cas? He swallows hard at the thought. 

It’s a thought made more devastating when Dean sees a thin brunette join Cas behind the counter; he sees the look she gives his friend, the way her hand lightly touches his arm. 

Cas is smiling at her. It isn’t the intense, “I went to hell for you” look he’s always given Dean, but it’s genuine, and it coaxes a brilliant smile out of the young woman.

Dean grits his teeth so tightly that his jaw pulses with pain. He slams the mug he’s been holding down on the metal shelf a little too loudly. When he glances to the front to see if he’s been noticed, he finds azure blue eyes fixed on him. 

He’s both relieved and bothered to find that a single look from Cas still generates a tingle along his spine and… um… other parts he is so _not_ thinking about right now. 

Cas’s magnetic look pulls Dean towards the counter. 

“Hey there, Cas,” Dean says, fighting to control the prickle behind his eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says somberly, but warmly.

“You two know each other?,” April asks. Before either can answer, she sticks her hand out to Dean. “Hi, I’m April.”

“Hello,” he says, shaking her hand without ever taking his eyes off Cas. 

He notices, though, when she snakes an arm around Cas’s waist. “It’s so good to meet friends of Cassy’s,” she says. “He’s such a mystery man.”

“Uh – Cassy?,” Dean asks, disbelief evident. 

“It’s a – uh – nickname,” Cas mutters.

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says. He notices Cas’s reddening cheeks and gives April a closer look, notices how young she really is and feels something inside him give way to relief. Whatever _this_ is, it can’t compare to what he and Cas have … _wait a minute, Winchester, when did you start defining what you and Cas have?_

That damn voice. Dean shakes his head and brings himself back to present. 

“I’ve – We’ve – been looking for you,” he says to Cas.

Cas gives him an indecipherable look and nods. “I stayed away because – uh –” His voice trails off. April is still pressed against his side. 

Dean can't help but smirk as Cas disentangles himself and tells her that he’s going to go ahead and clock out. 

“Call me later?” April asks brightly. 

Cas doesn’t say anything; he simply squeezes her arm lightly. That alone makes April glow with happiness. That alone sends a visceral pain through Dean. He clenches his hands in his pockets not knowing whom he wants to hit – the angel, the girl, or himself. 

He waits for Cas at the door, and the two walk in silent synchronicity to the Impala. 

“Wanna go for a drive?,” Dean asks.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Cas answers, running his fingers lovingly across the Impala’s shiny exterior. The gesture twists something inside of Dean, and he looks away. 

+

Dean drives to a nearby park that he’d passed on his way into town and parks near the watershed lake. 

Neither has said anything during the drive, and the silence continues as both watch the fishermen on the pier and the evening joggers crossing the footbridge.

Dean knows someone has to speak and decides to take the plunge. 

“Uh - Like I said,” he says, swallowing hard. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Cas ducks his head, carefully keeping his eyes forward, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Dean watches his friend averting his gaze, and his anger erupts. “What the hell, Cas? You can’t even speak to me now? Can't even look at me?”

Cas does glance at Dean, but his face is controlled and blank. 

Dean flings himself out of the car, slamming the door so hard that Baby shakes.

He leans against the side of the car, his head in his hands. That goddamn voice is in his head again: _What if he doesn’t need you after all? If he’s safer without you? Happier without you?_

Dean is so lost in his misery that he doesn’t realize Cas is beside him until he's simply _there_. The two men lean against Baby, not looking at each other, though their shoulders touch. Dean tries to ignore the resulting spark of heat flooding his body, the fact that he wants to…

But Dean can't stop the angry torrent of words that spills from his mouth. “I have been out of my mind with worry, with grief – I finally get my brother in one piece and then my – and then you disappear on me...What the hell, man?”

A painful silence hangs between them.

“I thought you were dead,” Cas says finally. “I thought the angels had killed you because of me –” Cas’s voice breaks, and he stares carefully at the ground until he regains composure. “I only found out that you were alive last week, when I found crime scene photos of that case in Oregon posted online.”

Dean nods, processing that information, accepting Cas's obvious distress. “Okay. So why didn’t you get in touch with me then, once you knew?”

“I – I wanted to,” Cas says. “But I just didn’t know –”

“Didn’t know what?,” Dean demands. “Didn’t know how to be a decent friend?”

Cas watches Dean; his expression a mix of apology and compassion and something else that Dean can’t quite identify. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Dean orders. 

“Like what?,” Cas asks.

“Like you want to pat me on the fucking head and tell me to calm down. I’m pissed, alright?” Dean crams his hands back into his jeans pockets and takes his turn staring at the ground.

“Okay,” Cas says quietly. “You’re pissed.”

A moment later, Cas asks, “And why exactly are you pissed?” He keeps his gaze carefully focused on a fisherman reeling in his latest catch. 

Dean breathes out with a rush of air and recalls Sammy’s advice – _try something different than your usual, guns-blazing, Imma-kick-your-ass approach_.

“Because…” And Dean can’t make himself say it. He looks at Cas, who’s got an eyebrow cocked at him, and that look - _that look_ \- in his big blue eyes, and damn it all to hell…

Dean steps in front of Cas, slipping his arms around the other man's waist and pulling him flush against Dean's body. It happens so quickly that Cas is a little taken aback, though he doesn't struggle against Dean, doesn’t push him away. Instead, Cas gives Dean a look that is decidedly wide-eyed and perhaps even lust-blown. 

Dean decides to go for it. 

“Because, you dumbass, _I need you_ ,” he mutters before taking possession of Cas’s mouth. 

When Cas slips a hand up his neck, into his hair, Dean moans softly against his friend’s mouth, and they mutually deepen the kiss. Dean presses Cas back against the Impala, and every contact point between them ignites. 

Dean draws back, shaking. “Goddamn,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against his friend’s. 

Cas looks into Dean's green eyes and says quietly, yet forcefully, “I need you too. Never doubt that.” He slips a hand under Dean's shirt, splaying it across the bare skin of the hunter's back and pulling him closer. Dean doesn't hide his response to the skin-on-skin contact, and Cas smiles.

“Come home?,” Dean asks. “With me?” He looks directly into Cas’s eyes, knowing that the whole of his heart is revealed in his own. For once, he’s glad that his eyes can convey what he can’t find the words for.

In answer, Cas frames Dean’s face with his hands, tracing his cheekbones with his thumbs, before gently kissing Dean on the lips. 

“Of course,” Cas answers, his breath soft against Dean’s mouth. 

He draws Dean close, and Dean rests his head in the crook of Cas’s neck. Cas presses his lips to Dean’s ear. 

Dean tightens his arms around Cas and, for the first time in his life, loses himself in the comfort of loving and being loved. 

He and Cas cleave to one another as the orange-pink hues of the waning sun fade to grays. 

+

**Author's Note:**

> I keep tweaking this one... but I'm going to stop now (9/27). Sorry for any confusion my compulsive edits caused!


End file.
